


Blood for Love (M!DB/Vilkas)

by Nudebeme



Series: The Artist and Vilkas [16]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudebeme/pseuds/Nudebeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes just the smallest hit to a soft spot to break even the strongest man. Vilkas never let words hurt his marriage for these 27 years, but now he feels as if his aging heart is starting to crack under the pressure of it all. A prequel of sorts to "A Sinking Boat".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anon who wanted to see how Chac and Vilkas would react to hearing some hurtful words towards their marriage

 

You hear it once, it doesn't really bother you. Just a passing comment from a local floozy, someone not worthy of time or respect, especially from someone as important as _him._ Sure, he only heard it once and it was no big deal. But then he heard it again, and then some more times. Month after month the same remarks heard just above a whisper, amid a sea of drunken banter and gossip... it's not like he hadn't endured this treatment for the past 27 years, but it was finally starting to sink in.

 

The Winking Skeever was always packed at this time of the evening, even moreso than it ever has been. Years of peace in Skyrim led less people to drink, at least until the Dominion decided genocide was the appropriate action for any province not willing to serve them. Once the deaths started racking up and the young sons and daughters of Skyrim where taken from their families, it just had driven everyone to the bottle. Tamriel needed it's joy again.

 

That's why they came here. They came to drink, to dance, and Vilkas thinks most of all they came here to listen to the Dragonborn perform. That's why _he_ was here, at least. Chac's music had a special magic to it that simply lifts a sullen mood, it brought out light from the darkest corners of the human mind and put weary souls at ease. The world outside the tavern is cruel, but inside they can leave their troubles on the doorstep and dance to the joyful tunes that played. It was all Vilkas wanted to hear, have a nice mug of ale and relax his back while watching Chac perform with several of his student bards. It made him happy knowing Chac finally was able to scrounge together some true talent to help perform his compositions.

 

But he heard more than he wanted to. Vilkas had a gentle smile on his face, watching Chac and his pupils bow after a wonderful performance. After the applause, idle chatter picked up while his husband thought of a next song to perform and Vilkas was content to simply watch from afar.

 

“He's still got it, ain't he? What I wouldn't give to have that elf sweep me off my feet and love me tender.”

 

“ _You know he wouldn't give you a passin' glance. He's got eyes just for guys and you ain't got the parts he wants.”_

 

“Don't mean a girl can't try. Give me 10 minutes with him and I'll get him singin' a different tune.”

 

“ _Heh, you'd have to pry off his fossil of a husband first. Can't imagine it would be too hard.”_

 

Whatever shred of peace Vilkas had from that point on was gone. He glared wickedly across the bar dead into the eyes of the man and woman who spoke so disgustingly of him, and he wasn't surprised that they didn't look back. The audacity of it all, how the youth of today could be so ignorant of the title that Vilkas carried or the love he and the Dragonborn shared. This was the umpteenth time he'd heard this garbage, but for some reason tonight he couldn't fathom any other comment striking him as deeply.

 

Maybe it was his age. Chac's music started up again and the rest of the tavern was alight with dancing patrons, but Vilkas heard none of it- and damn as well didn't _feel_ it. The blatant disregard for his presence among the crowds of swooning young folks did something to Vilkas tonight that he couldn't ignore no matter how many years had gone by. Standing up, Vilkas becomes all to aware of the ache in his knees as he makes for the door and leaves his husband and his happiness behind.

 

He couldn't deal with it right now. The way Chac grinned at the dancing young beauties before him, how his husband time and time again was caught having idle conversations with those handsome warriors. Vilkas wanted to believe that Chac was faithful to him, but how could he possibly know? How could he keep his beloved interested in him while he was inundated day in and day out with temptations for younger flesh?

 

Vilkas always was the moody sort. He was home and had his nose in a book by the time Chac even noticed he was gone. The elf had a fine mist of sweat on his forehead from dancing, his throat feeling raw and in need of a drink. The bar owner Minette was more than happy to fill his stein, but when Chac turned around to find his seat next to Vilkas, he was shocked to see a new set of lovers at their table.

 

“Erm..” Chac deadpans, scanning across the busy tavern in search of his husband. He was nowhere to be found, and Chac thought so little of it he didn't think twice to find his table of friends and sit himself down for a chat. They had been married so long they didn't need to communicate so often, he simply assumed Vilkas was bored and went home.

 

The conversation was light-hearted, and Chac was more than happy to throw joke after joke onto the crowded table to entertain those he considered his friends. It wasn't long before a haughty young voice caught his attention, a gentle touch at the back of his arm.

 

“I came all the way from Markarth to hear you play, Sir Chac. And I have to say the trip was well worth it, you really know how to make a girl sweat.” The Bosmer did a doubletake up from his drink and met eye to eye with a young girl barely past her teens, who had that ball-and-chain look in her eyes Chac knew too well.

 

“It's never my intention to ruin a fine pair of garments, but I suppose it comes with the trade.” Chac smirks, a loaded remark that always flustered the ladies. “Pleased to make yo-”

 

“He absolutely means to, are you joking? With all the panties I've seen hurled at him, I'm surprised he hasn't got them piled in a closet somewhere, stinkin' up the place.” His Orc friend interjected, a foul mouthed son of a bitch who Chac most certainly appreciated for his abominable manners. Whether or not he said that to try to get the girl off his back, it didn't seem to work.

 

“Well if he buys me a drink, maybe I can give him another addition.”

 

Bleh, was all that Chac could think. He openly disliked women that assumed he'd fuck them for the sole reason of being eager, he'd learned that Skyrim was absolutely teeming with loose youths. If he where a different elf and if this was 30 years ago, the idea of having a gorgeous Nord man falling into his lap at the snap of his fingers would have sounded delightful. But now, he was just frankly tired of it.

 

“You'd have to face Vilkas in the pit. And let me tell you, that man could tear anyone limb from limb.” The Orc added.

 

“Vilkas. You're partner?”

 

“My husband.” Chac smiles sadly, seeing how the flash of his wedding ring did nothing to ward off his admirer.

 

“...He's a lucky man. Would you mind if I had a word with you, Sir Chac?” She asks, and Chac didn't have the time of day for whatever she had to say. He suddenly felt so very tired of her.

 

“Sorry, miss. I should be getting home, my daughter doesn't like me out too late, drinking up a storm.”

 

“Oh, and I came all the way from Markarth!”

 

“I'll be back tomorrow night. Maybe you'll catch me alone then.” He didn't want to, but Chac had trouble saying no flat out to his younger admirers. Being rejected is rough on a girl especially that age, and it's been more than a few times that he's sent a lady off crying from being turned down.

 

“I certainly will.”

 

The end of that conversation meant the end of his night at the tavern. Chac didn't exactly want to leave his friends, but he promised Pjerlas a while ago that he wouldn't hang out with those mercenary types as much as he'd been doing. He bid the bar goodnight, collected his pay and was taking the chilly walk home towards Proudspire. He wasn't surprised to see that most of the windows of his manor where dark save for the top floor, it was later than he realized.

 

Inside, Vilkas lay on his back in their bed, several candles at his bedside offering just enough light to read his novel. Try as he might, he simply could not get lost into the story like he always did, his mind was rotten with foul thoughts of hating others. He didn't like to be like this, but he doesn't know any other way; no matter how much love his family brings him some things still stayed the same. He thought about the words that he'd been dealing with these past months.

 

Fossil. Fogey. Codger. Old man. He'd even heard some bastards saying he should have died years ago.

 

The melancholy it brought him soon enough made it impossible to read, and the next thing he knew, he was staring blankly at the same page for long minutes, reading nothing. It wasn't until he heard his husband coming up the steps did he frantically close his book and throw himself onto his side, feigning sleep. He didn't want to talk about it, especially now, and Vilkas always cursed himself for having such passionate eyes- Chac would sense something was wrong right away.

 

Chac didn't open the door quietly, but the sight of Vilkas sleeping there with all the candles burning made him confused. “You asleep?” he whispers, and Vilkas didn't budge. Chac inched his way towards the bed and pushed Vilkas' bare shoulder, making the Nord groan quietly.

 

“ _Mmmn?”_

 

“I'm home.”

 

“I see that.” Vilkas kept his eyes closed, not moving from his spot.

 

“Why'd you leave without telling me?”

 

“Too many people, I was getting a headache.”

 

“...Well I'm sure reading in the dark isn't going to help.” Chac glanced over at his book at the stand, Vilkas finally cracking his eyes open and glaring at his husband for the interrogation.

 

“It didn't. That's why I'm _sleeping_.”

 

“Alright, just checking. Give me a minute and I'll be in bed.”

 

“ _Mmmn.”_

 

Chac didn't think much of it, Vilkas did tend to get cranky when he was feeling ill and especially if he was tired. The bitchiness did nothing to phase him, and soon enough Chac was disrobing and wiping himself down with a wet cloth before climbing into bed with his husband. He smelled of booze and it bothered Vilkas, even moreso when the elf leaned over his body to blow out the set of candles at their bedside.

 

Chac did what he always did and sought out Vilkas' hand in the dark, under the covers. He found it and held on softly, slitted black eyes peeking over and seeing the Nord's resting face. He watched a while, whispering his little goodnight only to have Vilkas squeeze his hand as a silent response.

 

He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, that's for sure. Either of them. Chac wasn't tired, and Vilkas' mind was running in circles around the pain he feels knowing what the world thought of him now. What Chac must think of him.

 

Long minutes go by of Vilkas feigning sleep. It was hard keeping his eyes closed and his breath steady for such a long time, until he was certain that Chac was asleep. Only then did his blue eyes fly open to watch him, only to be caught having Chac staring right back.

 

“Can't sleep?” He asks, Chac's heightened senses able to feel Vilkas' heart pounding harder suddenly.

 

“Head hurts.”

 

“Let me help you.” Chac reaches up, a soft warm glow emitting from his hand that swept gently across Vilkas' temple, over his forehead and to the other side. The pain he felt didn't subside, but he only nodded when Chac was done. The elf leaned over their distance and planted a kiss on his forehead, feeling the bit of wrinkles that lived there.

 

“I stopped playing when you left. It doesn't feel right to perform the songs I wrote for the man who wasn't there.” Chac was telling the truth, almost all the songs he played tonight where composed for Vilkas, the love he feels towards his husband filled Chac with such a beautiful muse that the tunes where full of joy.

 

Vilkas didn't smile, he merely bit his lip and let Chac's fingertips continue to feel the side of his jaw. “I'll be there tomorrow.” He whispers, hoping that in the morning he will find it in his heart to forgive all the hate towards him. He didn't know if Chac was aware of just how often he was hearing these awful things, and he wasn't sure just how much longer he can hold onto them without letting his husband know what his “fans” are saying about his lover.

 

Vilkas was rarely a man to crack, but right now he feels like he just might.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hateful speech ahead

He wasn't really sure what he should have expected the next night, but Vilkas walked in with Chac with a smile that was a little less genuine. The bar was already packed, it had been all day and even if Chac only started his weekend performances at night, the patrons have already drank themselves into a stupor. They hadn't spent very long together today, Vilkas liked to have his alone time and he certainly wanted it more than ever now, but he promised Chac that he'd be here tonight. The idea of being Chac's muse for his music may have been one of the few things that motivated him to get dressed and come down here.

 

“So, what do you want to do? Help me set up, or get us some drinks?” Chac set down the armfuls of instruments on the stage floor, wiping his hands and giving his husband a grin.

 

“I'll take care of you. I'll be sitting where we always do.”

 

“No, Vilkas. Sit up here, front row. You know that smile is what really brings my spirit up.”

 

“Heh.” Vilkas smiled back, suddenly feeling a little better at the idea of being closer to Chac. He was gone in a flash, waiting for his free serving of drinks from Minette at the busy bar. Vilkas has over the years gotten better at dealing with big crowds, but the combined stench of peasant breath and farmer sweat was nauseating to say the least.

 

Drinks filled to the brim in each hand, Vilkas turned around and carefully shuffled his way through the crowds with his eyes staring hard at the ale, trying his hardest not to make a spill. By the time he looked up, he got the disappointing sight of Chac tuning his violin while the _same_ damn tramp from last night was already in HIS seat, talking to the elf. Chac had his eyes and ears locked solely on his instrument, but the fire inside Vilkas is instantly ignited- He wouldn't have any of this shit, not now. 

 

“-So I figured now you'd give me a spot of your time, before you get on up there and-”

 

Both the girl and Chac seemed to look up at the same time to him, Vilkas' stony glare affixed on the invader. Without a word he places.. _slams_ .. the drinks down onto their table, one directly before the girl and one for Chac. He said nothing, arms crossed in wait for whatever bullshit comment he was going to get from her.

 

“...Is this drink for me?” She asks, clearly surprised.

 

“No, it's for me. You know what else is for me? That seat you're in.”

 

Chac deadpanned, staring at Vilkas and then the girl before giving her a confusing look “...By the way, This is my husband, Vilkas.” He already knew something was up with Vilkas tonight, he was a very jealous sort and had always been no-nonsense when interlopers came to try and woo his famous husband. Chac honestly did not expect anything else. 

 

“She knows who I am.”

 

“I know _of_ you, now I get to finally meet you. I was just about to ask Sir Chac an important question-”

 

“He's busy now, can't you tell?” Vilkas snarled, seeing how Chac chose to take the backseat and continued to tune his violin, still as unwilling as ever to listen to another suitor's toying words. “Everyone here is waiting for the show to start. It'll have to wait until he's done for the night.”

 

“Sir Chac, I-”

 

“ _Enjoy the show.”_ Vilkas snarls, his voice dragged on long enough to let the girl know she wasn't welcome. Getting up in a huff, she storms off into the crowd and utterly vanishes among the tall heads of other Nord patrons. Vilkas pulls out his chair and sits down roughly, looking at Chac with a guiltless frown.

 

“You're so charming, love.” Chac smiles, playing a simple tune on his violin while his band mates arrived and did the same. “I remember why I fell for you the second you opened your mouth to me that first time.” 

 

“Do you know what she wanted?”

 

“I have no idea. She tried to get my attention last night, as well. Nothing new here.”

 

“Well I certainly know. Heard her last night boasting that she could _change your tune_ with just a few minutes of your time. Wench just has one thing on her mind, so don't give me an attitude for defending what's mine.” Vilkas looked clearly furious, forgoing all care and lifting the ale to his mouth and drinking heavily, spilling a good amount on his lap. 

 

Chac's heart softened that little bit, knowing now why Vilkas left last night in a huff. Things made a lot more sense to him now “Why didn't you tell me that last night?” He asks, Vilkas' eyes darting away from his knowing his anger had made him spill some secrets. “Is that why you left early?”

 

“...That wasn't what pissed me off. Look, how about we talk about it later?” Vilkas wasn't the kind of man to spill his heart in public, and by the sound of the drunken crowd it looked like they where becoming less patient for the show. They started calling out Chac's name, both friends and fans, and Chac had no choice but to agree with his husband and present his ensemble at the center of the tavern. 

 

The musician always had a way with showmanship. The way he spoke with such gusto as he introduced himself and his students was something Vilkas was used to at this point, but still managed to make him smile every time. Big fancy words in a big fancy voice...He really was such a fruit cake when he wanted to be; Vilkas had to admit he was always in love with that melodramatic side of him. Like a burning light, all patrons of the tavern flocked around him as if entranced moths. 

 

Chac met eyes with Vilkas and knew exactly what he would play to set his heart at ease. Beating drums rang out like a stampede over the Alikr, soon joined by lute and the uplifting melody of Chac's violin. Instantly the crowd was taken in, all walks of life seeking refuge in the beauty of song and dance. Vilkas scans the tavern, seeing how young lovers took each other by the hand and danced away their worries, and even if Vilkas wasn't a great dancer (or the most willing) he often found himself wanting to jump up and take Chac into his arms and join them, just as they first danced those years ago. Back when he was careless of what the world thought, back when the only looks he got where ones of jealousy and not ridicule. 

 

Everything was alright then. Vilkas knew every word of Chac's song was for him and the life they shared. Enough time went by lost in the music that Vilkas soon found his legs jittering, unaware of just how badly he needed to relieve himself after he'd reached the bottom of his mug. Chac's voice did not falter even as he watched Vilkas stand and make for the far hall down the tavern towards the loo, but that peaceful smile was all the reassurance Chac needed to know he'd be back. 

 

Vilkas ducked and weaved through the hall, it was far more crowded tonight and Vilkas was used to the glimpses he caught of people staring at him as he walked by. But this time, it just didn't feel right... the hair on the back of his neck stood as he felt the tickling sort of suspicion that someone was glaring at him. He didn't even make it to the john before a portly drunk stepped into his way, blocking him entirely. 

 

“Pardon me.” Vilkas blurted, just enough to be polite- but he recognized that face right away, and especially that voice once he heard it.

 

“I ain't moving for shit. My sister came back here telling me you'd been a right prick, running your mouth at-”

 

“Listen boy, don't even start with me.” Vilkas asserts, his voice low. This was the same trash that he'd seen last night, and by the looks of it the young Nord was enough drinks in to think he was tough. “It won't end well for you.”

 

“I want you to apologize to her, you worn-out bastard!” The young man pipes up, his voice growing loud enough to merit onlookers.

 

“Once she apologizes for being a sloppy homewrecker, I'll consider it.” Vilkas snarls, that apparently sending the boy further over the edge, his sister joining his side with disgust in their eyes.

 

“The fuck you just say? Sloppy? What's that on your pants! You piss yourself, old man?” The drunk ridiculed the dark spot of ale Vilkas had spilled on his lap earlier, and the words alone merited a growing crowd of people turning from the show to watch a fight in the works.

 

“Your sister's a homewrecker. Any decent woman wouldn't chase after a married man, especially one that's _already_ turned her down. And if you call me an old man again, you won't live to see my age.” Vilkas was never born with a fuse, and he was inches from slapping the shorter Nord out of his way just to get the Oblivion out of this awful situation. 

 

“What a bastard!” His sister cries, “You pick a fight with my brother and you're going to get laid flat on your back!”

 

“I don't know, I think he's used to being on his back.” 

 

Vilkas thought that would have been what sent him over the edge, but it took all of his willpower to simply sigh and extend a hand, pushing the heavyset drunk to the side with surprising strength. The dirty comment befit the random gasps from onlookers who knew and  _respected_ Vilkas, surprised that the hotheaded man didn't break his nose.

 

“Oof!” The drunk stumbled into his sister, nearly knocking her down, and Vilkas simply took a few more steps towards his destination to avoid causing a scene at his husband's performance. Inside his blood boiled, his teeth gritting with every inch of him aching to hurt the fool who mocked him. “Don't you walk away!” The boy didn't make chase, watching Vilkas leave.

 

“ _Milk-drinking faggot_.” 

 

Vilkas stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening like saucers. His large hands where balled up into fists by the time he'd already turned around and threw all of his weight into a blow that split both the boy's lips and nose at once. The punch was so strong it hurt them both, sending the boy staggering back with blood oozing down his chin while pain seared across Vilkas' bloodied knuckles. Those that watched shouted, other bloodthirsty drunks aching to see justice for their local hero. The whooping and the cheering did nothing for Vilkas, who just scowled and bumped into the boy's shoulder before leaving the fight in a huff. 

 

Inside the bathroom, he could hear the sputtered ranting of the siblings just beyond the locked door. Inside was a meagerly lit mirror, a bucket of water and the pot..he stared at the dim reflection of himself and felt a twinge of sadness he normally never felt. It was an empty victory, one that would not change anything and had only left him a reminder that there are those out there who despise his marriage, his love. The one thing he cherished most in this world. 

 

He didn't think of washing the blood off his scraped knuckles, simply doing his business and soon to be outside to face the shouting drunk. Once he walked out, he chose to ignore every eye on him and made straight for his seat in front of Chac who still played so joyfully. He chose to drown out the angry shouts, the threats- they're empty and he wouldn't achieve anything by hurting his other hand. 

 

Without a smile he sat down, staring at the floor where Chac's boots shuffled on the stone. So angry. All  he could think about was how much he'd let this get to him, and all at once he was depressed that Chac didn't know.

 

“ _Nevermore would there be a sight as beautiful_

_as his raven wings unfurled in glorious,_

_glorious free-”_

 

Chac's eyes found Vilkas' bloody knuckles in a heartbeat, and like that his performance abruptly stopped, with his confused bandmates faltering only to keep playing without him. Chac's smile was wiped clean, and Vilkas looked up to him with that angered surprise. He wasn't expecting Chac to just  _stop_ .

 

“Vilkas, what happened to your hand?” Chac takes a step off the stage, setting down his violin on the table to grab his husband's hand, only to have Vilkas pull it away. The rest of the bar seemed confused, but not nearly as much as Chac felt. 

 

“I lost my temper with a whelp that got fresh with me.” Vilkas mumbles, unappreciative of the crowd's attention on them “Nothing I didn't handle.” 

 

Chac wouldn't have it, though. He caught Vilkas' hand and inspected the blood on his knuckles, feeling infuriated “What did he say to you?” 

 

Before Vilkas could answer, the drunk in question had muscled his way through the crowd with blood leaving a messy trail down his tunic. Vilkas merely looked back at him with weary eyes and said “Why don't you ask him yourself?” 

 

“I'll do just that.” with purpose in his voidlike eyes, Chac comes face to face with the whelp Vilkas had softened up for him, seeing the teen's mouth swollen and busted. “Come here, boy.” He extended a finger and beckoned as a scolding parent would “Come tell me what the bad man did.” Vilkas glowered at them both, refusing to stand and face him again. 

 

“ 'E finks 'e can jus fookin' walk away frub a fide?”

 

“Can you speak clearly, please? I can't understand you.” 

 

“Dis aind your fookin' bidness, elf. Tell dat gray old bathdard ta' gid ub an fiddish it!” From the looks of it, the young lady he'd been avoiding was now running to the drunk's side and pulling on his arm in an attempt to get him to stop; she didn't want the Dragonborn getting involved. 

 

Chac didn't think he'd heard enough, he was often one to egg on a loser as a public display of their idiocy. He merely glanced over at his husband, placing a loving hand on Vilkas' shoulder “So why did this 'gray old bathdard' hit you?”

 

“'E beed a assh to my thithter, n' I'ma fookin' breag ith neck! Whad kinda Dord walk away frub a fide?” 

 

“Please, just let it go. Stop it, Ald!” 

 

“I think you should listen to your sister.” Chac's brow furrowed, crossing his arms.

 

“en' I thingk you should boove oud of de way, tho I cad kick dis fooker ride in 'is faggot coont.” 

 

What's wrong with kids these days? Had they no respect for anyone, especially their elders? The words this rotten youth spat where barely spoken in this more sophisticated city in Skyrim, the foulness enough to bring out gasps from the older women who watched on. Chac already knew by the time he'd said that, that the boy was going to be beaten to shit. He'd do it in front of everyone, too. Vilkas deserved as much. 

 

“Right in his...what?”

 

“'Is _faggot coont!”_ He cries again, pointing down Vilkas who glared at him with such loathing. Vilkas knew he was too good for getting up and destroying the stupid boy, but Chac was not above it. The elf did himself and his husband a favor by silencing the drunk's filthy mouth with a blow that put Vilkas' first one to shame. Chac's fist knocked him straight onto his back, his sister nearly falling with him and scrambling out of the way.

 

Vilkas jumps up out of his chair in shock to the sight of Chac leaping on top of the prone body, fists clenched and raining down punishment onto his face, his arms, anything Chac could land a hit on. Below him the Nord screamed, blood blossoming from every open laceration in his skin that Chac punched into him. His sister screamed and begged, begged for the Dragonborn not to murder her little brother, and that they where sorry. 

 

Chac didn't hear it. His fury was blinding, deafening to everything around him. When he stood up he only used his boot to stomp and kick the fool across the ground until he was in a puddle of his own wretched blood. Vilkas hadn't seen Chac like this in years- it was frankly terrifying to him and everyone around him who thought of Chac mostly as a charitable soul. 

 

“Chac, stop it!” Vilkas had to cry out, stepping in blood before grabbing Chac by the shoulders and pulling his husband away. Blood was spattered like paint across his face, his fists and boots drenched in it. “You're going to kill him!” 

 

“I want you to never forget what happens when you fuck with my husband! That goes for ALL OF YOU!” Chac roars, the music long since stopped and each and every mouth in the tavern silent. You could hear a pin drop. 

 

“Maybe I haven't been clear enough! Maybe all of this music and frivolity has made you think otherwise, but you don't come between me and my family! Does it take me beating a dumb shit within an inch of his life for you people to have a little respect for us?! I'm willing to be feared if that's what it takes!” 

 

“Chac, they _know.._ ” Vilkas whispered, seeing Chac turn to look at him with abject fire in his eyes. He was sick of seeing Vilkas and his children take year after year of abuse from the gossip and the lies. The sound of the young girl crying was the only thing that echoed in the walls for a long moment.

 

“The show's over.” Chac snarls, grabbing his violin in one hand and his husband in the other. Together they stormed out, Vilkas being almost dragged, leaving the incident and nearly 60 shellshocked people inside. 

 

“Chac, you didn't have to try and kill him.” Vilkas shook, his nerves rattled “What will our daughter think?”

 

“She'd think I did the right thing. No one talks to you that way. No one.” Chac often acted on a whim and his fierce strength often got the better of him, not once considering what he did to be wrong. “Skyrim's getting too comfortable with condemning us. I'm sick of these bloodsuckers trying to get in between you and I, all the flirts and the whores looking for easy money.”

 

“Chac, he only called me a few names.” Vilkas suddenly thinking that the punishment for his words seemed tenfold. 

 

“No. You know it too. I hate coming home seeing you upset and not knowing why. I can tell it bothers you, hearing that. I've been hearing it too, that you're this and you're that... I'm sick of it.” 

 

They where almost home by the time they decided to stop and talk it out on the sidewalk. Vilkas reached up and wiped away the fool's blood from Chac's face, knowing their daughter is still awake in the early night. Their breath misted in the cold air as they stood hand in hand discussing what is to come of their reputation by tomorrow. It's never been easy, this famous marriage, but Chac was willing to kill if it would scare off the crimes against them even for a short while. 

 

“...So it's agreed then. We tell each other when something's wrong. Even if it's a little thing, I want to know about it, Vilkas. You shouldn't have to deal with this.”

 

“And you shouldn't have to beat up drunk teenagers for me. Next time I hear any more tripe, I'll settle it myself.” 

 

“Agreed. Let's get in the house and get cleaned up before Pjerlas smells the blood.” 

 

Together they walked hand in hand into their home, the only haven left in this city for them. It was going to be a dark rest of the night, but what happened tonight proved to Vilkas that Chac's heart was indeed with him all this time. He didn't need to worry... He felt loved. 

 


End file.
